Character Switch Drabbles
by sarcastic rabbit
Summary: Entry for the Goldenlake Drabble Tournament. Prompt inspiration also from 'tammy-drabbbles' on livejournal: One character switches sides. Is Alanna fighting for Tusaine? Is Jonathan trying to assassinate Roger? Is Kel a spy for Scanra?
1. In Which Alanna is Tusainie

**In Which Alanna is Tusainie**

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"You are a PIG!"

_Crack_.

The leather glove whips across his cheek, leaving a hot, stinging imprint. Jon tries not to wince. The Great Hall goes silent; shocked.

"We will duel tomorrow, _Your Highness_, if for the occasion you can locate your honour!"

The red-headed Tusainie squire turns on her heel and strides away with ferocious, un-ladylike steps. Jon stares helplessly at her retreating, hose-clad legs beneath the thigh-length tunic. Those indecently exposed legs were what got him into trouble in the first place.

"Who does she think she is, challenging the Crown Prince?" says Gary angrily. "Damned Tusainie, with their damned pride!"

"They say that she can do unbelievable things with a sword," says Alex, considering.

"Speaking of a woman in such terms does not become you," snaps out Jon.

Alex looks at him curiously. "I was talking about swordplay, Jonathan. What did you think I was talking about?"

Jon flushes a deep red. "Swordplay, of course," he says stiffly.

Gary looks highly amused. A burst of loud laughter from the group of Tusanie knights gathered around the short squire puts them all on edge. Raoul curls his fists around his belt until the knuckles whiten.

"No one could expect you to take this challenge," Gary says firmly. "She's just a girl. Father will have a word with the Tusainie Ambassador about keeping her in hand."

"What?" Jon watches her gesture across the hall, angry and unfeminine. She's not even that pretty. "Of course I'm going to fight her."


	2. In Which Numair is a Carthaki Spy

**In Which Numair is a Carthaki Spy**

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"There had better be a good explanation for this."

Numair takes one look at the document lying on the kitchen table and sighs. "Sweet—" He stops. "This isn't what it looks like."

"It looks like secret correspondence to the Carthaki spymaster." Daine's blue-eyed stare is flat. A dozen animals watch intently from various perches around the room; the jury to her judge.

"Well, yes," says Numair.

"_Yes?_"

"But it's nothing that they aren't already getting through other channels."

"How long," Daine whispers.

"They recruited me when I was a student. Oh, don't look at me like that, Daine!" says Numair. "Half the students at university were on the payroll of Imperial Intelligence. How do you think we low-class commoners paid our fees? It was standard practice."

"What have you told them?" says Daine numbly. "Council secrets? Were you _helping_ them during the Immortals' War? What will the King do to you when he finds out? _Goddess!_"

"Jonathan knows."

Daine looks at him, speechless.

"He makes suggestions about what I pass along, and I give him whatever news I get from my Carthaki superiors."

"You're a _double agent!"_ Daine says. She's even less thrilled, if such a thing is possible.

The songbirds warble uneasily, the cats hiss at Numair, and an orphaned Great Horned lizard makes a truly evil noise like a death gurgle in a suit of armour.

"Yes, of course! I'm not a traitor," Numair says, offended. He rubs a frustrated hand over his eyes. "Jonathan made me swear not to tell anyone, even you. He said that it was better for everyone if left a secret. I'm truly sorry that you found out this way, Magelet. That letter was supposed to be hidden."

Daine lets him know how inadequate his apology is with the kind of stare that heralds zombie dinosaurs.

"Kitten found it." She picks up Sarralyn from her cradle, hushing her gently when she starts to fuss.

"I'm going to Onua's," Daine says accusingly. "Try not to sell any state secrets while I'm gone."

A small menagerie of angry creatures follows her out the door.


	3. In Which Jonathan tries to kill Roger

**In Which Jonathan is Trying to Kill Roger **

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"Show him in," says King Jonathan, engrossed in his paperwork.

A man bursts past the guards at the door and stands over Jonathan, spitting mad.

"This is the last straw, Jonathan! Enough, I tell you! An assassin disguised as a barber?" Roger of Conté slams his palm down on the desk. The guards reach for their swords.

Jonathan's pen pauses. He looks up mildly. "Hello, Roger. What on earth are you talking about?"

"Here!" Roger points to where a razor-sized stripe of beard is missing along his throat. "He nearly killed me!"

Jonathan contemplates his older cousin's neck. "It looks like you had a close shave."

Roger howls with fury and lunges across the desk. The guards are on him in a second, twisting his arms behind his back and subduing his struggles. Jonathan smoothes his tunic and straightens his papers.

Roger quivers with suppressed rage. "I'm sorry about your parents, Jonathan, but for the last time: _I have no designs on your throne, your person, the life of your terrifying queen or your barbarian horde of children! I only want to be left alone!"_

Jonathan's eyes narrow. "I'm a tolerant man, Cousin, but it doesn't look very good when you come in here and make baseless accusations and wild threats. Other people might get the wrong impression."

Roger shuts up.

"Show him out," Jonathan tells the guards.

The door closes. Left in peace, Jonathan smiles slightly. He removes a list from his desk drawer and crosses off another item.


End file.
